


mistletoe

by faerietell



Series: the way you look at me [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Mistletoe, Prompt Fic, Zutara, Zutara Month, Zutara Month 2016, complete fluff, don't read it the fluff is gross, i can't write kisses, look at this trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerietell/pseuds/faerietell
Summary: When Katara took the Christmas Eve shift at the hospital, she never expected a kiss under a sprig of mistletoe.





	

It was worst because she knew she could have said no. Katara was only an intern, and she wasn’t vital to the everyday running of the hospital. But she never could. She needed those hours. She needed every moment. She couldn’t say no, not when she knew there would be little girls sitting by their mother’s hospital beds. For her, it had been her mother’s deathbed.

She peeled off the scrubs in the locker room, tugging on her jeans and a festive jumper. It was ten minutes to midnight, far too late to crash any of the parties she had been invited to for Christmas eve, Aang’s mainly. She was better off going home and watching _Love Actually_ for the third time in December. She swung her purse over her shoulder, took a few steps out of the locker room and heard holiday music.

Here was the truth: Katara couldn’t resist the holidays. Her Christmas lights was on before Cyber Monday. She wore red and green socks every day of December. On Christmas mornings, she still awoke early, no matter how hungover or how late she had been up the night before, tasting snow in her mouth and life in her chest.

So she couldn’t stop herself from making her way down the white-tiled floors, lights slightly dimmed so patients could sleep. When she came upon the crime scene, she leaned against the wall and smile. It was a makeshift party, a heavy-set old man in bed but with others milling around him, eating cake and drinking tea and being _happy_. Katara could vaguely remember some visitor limit, but she didn’t want to think on it now, not when this was what Christmas was all about.

She felt like a voyeur, with her blue eyes clinging onto each exchanged smile and listening to the man tell some story about his shop. She even recognized the name of the shop from passing it by on her way from her bus stop to her apartment. A smile began to creep on her own face as he began to launch into a long-winded joke.

“What are you doing?”

The rasping voice at her side surprised her, and her head knocked back into the wall. She clutched at the sore spot on her head, gaze flitting up to meet the golden eyes staring at her. She didn’t flinch at the scar that mangled half his face (even though her eyes rested on it for half a second). Katara was going to be a doctor, and she was used to seeing worst.  “You couldn’t clear your throat or something?” She asked, massaging her head.

“You’re at a hospital,” said the man. “You’ll be fine. So what are you doing?”

Katara scrambled for an excuse. She didn’t think the truth (the fact she was kind of obsessed with Christmas and carols and gross happiness everywhere) would cut it. “I work here,” she said instead. “I was making sure everything was fine.”

“For five minutes?” He arched an eyebrow.

“I – ” She stammered, face heating up. “ _Yes_ , for five minutes.”

“Well, as you can see, everything is fine here,” said the man. His gaze roamed over her this time, and she could feel the scorn.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” she crossed her arms. “But great, okay. I’m glad. Bye.” She twisted and began to walk down the hallway. It took her a second to realize she was going the wrong way, but her pride stopped her from turning around. So what if it would be a longer walk? It would be worth not seeing his arrogant, judging face.

“Wait,” his fingers briefly skimming over her shoulder stopped her, and she turned around. “I shouldn’t have – it was Uncle Iroh, right? He tells stories, good stories. And good jokes. I can never tell the same jokes. I mean, I can, but not as well. Truth is, half the people there are total strangers.”

“Yeah,” said Katara, grateful for the excuse and the half-truth. “It was the story. I only meant to pause for a second.”

“He’s like that,” said the man, smiling fondly. All the harsh lines that drew his face softened at the smile. He was handsome. Katara hadn’t noticed that before now, but he was tall and lean in the way that her hands ached to explore the line of his jaw, to unbutton another button on the half-open collar.

“Is he okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” said the man, shoving his hands in his pockets. They had begun to walk back to the room, standing now by the doorway. Even in the white collar suit, he was boyish in how he leaned into the doorway. “Just a routine thing, I think. But Uncle likes to play it up. Any excuse for a party.”

“Christmas Eve is always a good one,” said Katara, following his gaze to the elderly man and smiling too. “I’m Katara. By the way. I intern here.”

“Uh, Zuko here,” he reddened and adjusted his collar. “That’s to say, I’m Zuko. I’m a professor. In college. Teach college.”

She was going to excuse herself then, but Uncle Iroh had noticed the two of them. “ _Nephew_ ,” he called so half the room’s attention turned the two of them. “Who is this lovely young lady? And why aren’t you following tradition? I didn’t raise you like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko asked. He mouthed _he’s on hospital drugs_ to her, and she couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her.

“Mistletoe, Zuko,” said Iroh, grinning.

Katara’s eyes flitted up to where a sprig of mistletoe hung between them. Then down again to where shock visibly flooded his face.

“Oh, he’s not going to do it,” a woman with a choppy hair-cut said. “Dear Zuzu never does.”

He gritted his teeth, irritated gaze snapping to the woman’s face. Siblings, Katara realized a moment later. They were both attractive with those golden eyes and fine dark hair. She was watching her, or she wouldn’t have gasped when Zuko cupped her jaw and leaned in close. “May I?”

Handsome. That didn’t cut it. His chest was an inch away from brushing hers, and she wanted to press into him, line her body to hers and see where it would fit. As a doctor, she was anatomically certain they would, hip to hip, heart to heart. His breath was warm on her mouth from where their lips nearly met, and his other hand drew circles onto her waist.

“Yes but um, I smell like blood,” said Katara. “Just so you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you talking me out of this?”

No, she wasn’t. She didn’t bother saying it either, linking her hands around his neck and rising on her tip-toes to press her lips softly to his. It wasn’t enough. It was barely anything, but she remembered their audience and pulled away.

The room burst into applause.

“Oh, God,” Zuko rolled his eyes again, taking her hand and pulling her back into the hallway. “I’m sorry about that.”

“What part?” She asked, dragging her gaze from his lips to meet his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“What part?” She repeated. “The part where we kiss or the part where it wasn’t even that good?”

“What?” He flushed. “I’m good at kissing, thanks.”

“So you want to try again?” She asked him, placing her hands on his shoulders again. She didn’t care if she was reading things all wrong. This was a stranger, a boy she met on whim on Christmas Eve and had kissed under the mistletoe. There were no consequences. For once, she was going to let herself do whatever.

His jaw tightened, and this time it was him pulling her body to his, lip meeting hers heatedly. His hand was warm where it settled on her waist beneath her sweater, and God, she was _drunk_ on it. She was intoxicated in the adrenaline of the moment, of her heartbeat hammering in her chest and the way he smelled like pine trees.

They only broke apart for breath.

“Merry Christmas,” she gasped after she found her breath again.

“I’m Jewish.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she laughed. “Okay. We should do that again.”

“A lot,” said Zuko.

“I like that idea.”

“I’d also like if,” he hesitated before he mumbled out the rest of that sentence. “Would go on a date with me?”

There was a giddy feeling in her stomach as she kissed him softly on the mouth. “Yes. Happy Hanukah.”

A grin split his face. “Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: mistletoe   
> i'm sorry about what unapologetic fluff this whole thing is i don't control zutara zutara controls me


End file.
